


Up Above the World So High

by onetruealpha



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Angst and Feels, Angst galore, BAMF Eleven, Bullying, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Eleven, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Sexual assault not between the main couple, Threats of Violence, protective friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-29 15:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onetruealpha/pseuds/onetruealpha
Summary: After Eleven vanishes, Mike never gives up hope of finding her. He goes out looking every chance he can, but their reunion isn't at all what he'd anticipated. Post S1. Not for the faint of heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with the brutal sexual assault of a minor by another minor, and contains at least one character death. Please keep yourself safe. If you're triggered by this kind of situation, please don't read. I don't know precisely at this point where this fic is heading.
> 
> Title comes from "Goodnight, Travel Well" by the Killers.

It’s probably futile, because every night it’s futile, but something inside of him won’t let him give up. Not on her. He’s sure that this is what the rest of his life is going to be like: trying to reach her on the radio, searching the woods at the edge of town, always waiting for some kind of sign that she’s really still out there. That she’s okay. It keeps him awake nights. During the day he’s just agitated. Paying attention is a lot harder than it once was, and his grades have slipped a bit. Mr. Clark had pulled him aside to ask if he was okay, and he’d brushed off the concern, saying he was fine, just tired.

Tonight finds him navigating his way through the woods alone, because Dustin is grounded, Lucas isn’t interested, and Will -- well. Joyce Byers is still having trouble letting Will out of his sight, which he gets, because sometimes he doesn’t like leaving his friend’s side when it’s time to go home, either.

But he can’t not look. Can’t give up. He carries a flashlight, but he doesn’t call out, afraid he might not be the only one still looking for her. Bastards. 

He’s been trudging through the damp, cold woods for over an hour when a loose root trips him and he falls, hitting the ground hard and wincing as the snow wet his clothes, chilling him even more. 

Off to the right there’s a noise, and Mike grimaces as he struggles to get to his feet. A twig snaps, followed by footsteps steadily getting closer and he holds his breath in anticipation, heart beating faster in his chest. He shines his light in the general direction the noise is coming from. 

“Who the hell is shining a light in my face?” 

The voice is familiar, but it’s certainly not the one he’s been wanting to hear by any means. He lowers the light, doing his best to ignore the dread that fills him just as quickly as the hope had only moments before. 

“Well lookie here. Frogface Wheeler,” Troy sneers, and James laughs as the two older boys draw closer. 

“Whatcha doing out here all by yourself? Where are your little fairy friends?” James asks, glancing around.

“None of your business,” Mike retorts, squaring his shoulders.

“I don’t think they’re here.” Troy shines a light in his face and he squints, shielding his eyes with one hand. “Don’t see your crazy mutant girlfriend around either. You all alone, Frogface?” 

He grips onto his flashlight a little more tightly. He really isn’t in the mood for getting his ass kicked right now. “I’m on my way home.” He shakes his head and turns, starting to head away. 

Much to his dismay, Troy moves forward, grabbing hold of the back of his jacket. “Don’t have anyone around to protect you now, huh?” 

Mike tries to pull away but Troy slams a fist into his gut, causing him to double over as the wind is knocked out of him. He hits his knees hard, barely a chance to catch his breath before James lands a kick to his torso, knocking him backwards into the snow.

“I got an idea.” Troy kneels down beside him, rolling him over so he’s lying on his stomach. He winces as pain shoots through his ribcage, and he struggles, trying to get up. Troy shoves his face down into the snow. “I didn’t tell you that you could get up, Frogface.” 

“Man, what are you doing?” James asks, suddenly sounding nervous.

“Getting a little payback for my broken arm,” Troy answers, tugging Mike’s jeans down. 

His eyes go wide and he tries kicking the older boy away from him, shoving his arms beneath him to get up without much luck. Troy slams his head back down again, and he yells, flailing. “Get off me! Get off me!” 

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” James tells him, taking a couple steps back. 

“Oh come on, it’s not like it’ll be his first time. He’s a faggot, remember?” He reaches out and picks something up, something Mike only glimpses in his struggles. Terror shoots through him as his face is forced back down into the snow, making it hard to breathe. Tears stream down his face as he yells but is pinned in place with Troy’s knees in the middle of his back. 

He chokes on a mouthful of snow, gasping for air as pain rips through him when Troy shoves the stick inside him. His fingernails dig into the snow, clawing at the ground beneath, searching for something, anything he can use as a weapon against Troy, to stop him, to stop the painful violation. 

“Not gonna be gentle like your girlfriends,” Troy says mockingly, shoving the stick into Mike and yanking it back out roughly before doing it again. 

Mike screams, feeling like he’s being ripped apart, panic like he’s never felt before rolling through him the only competition against the agony in his backside. 

Then the pressure on his back is gone, and he thinks maybe Troy is done torturing him and he draws in a shuddering breath, lifting his head to see what’s happening just in time to see Troy’s body slammed into a tree a few feet in front of him. All the air leaves his lungs for another reason now, and he scrambles to his feet the best he can, yanking his pants up despite the pain, and turning to see Eleven standing there, hand extended, more angry than he’s ever seen her before. 

Blood is already trickling down her nose and he swallows heavily, shame and horror and relief and a million other emotions he can’t even begin to identify surge through him at the sight of her. 

Troy, meanwhile, remains pinned against the tree and with a tilt of El’s head, he screams, high-pitched and Mike hears a bone snap in his previously uninjured arm. She tilts her head the other way and that arm re-breaks and Troy _howls._

“El,” he mumbles, moving toward her slowly, because too much movement hurts, and he’s afraid she’s overdoing it, that she’ll pass out and not wake up this time and it can’t be because of him. It can’t be _ever_. 

Eleven’s gaze shifts to him and then to the ground where he’d be lying, and Mike follows her line of sight, spotting blood in the snow. His blood. He feels a sudden rush of nausea and the world starts to spin. He collapses onto his knees, throwing up the dinner he’d eaten a couple hours beforehand. 

“Let me go,” Troy whimpers. 

She steps closer to Mike, eyes locked on the older boy, weeping with pain. “You. Hurt. Mike.” 

“I’ll never do it again! I promise! Please, please let me go,” he sobs. 

This time her voice is quiet. Too quiet. “No.” 

Mike lifts his head to look at the older boy, just as Troy’s neck snaps hard to the side and he falls to the ground, limp and unmoving. He stares wide-eyed, face paler than usual, lips almost blue from having his face pressed into the snow for so long, and then he turns his head to look at Eleven. “El.” His voice breaks. 

Eleven moves to his side, dropping down in front of him, and pressing a hand to his face, tears in her eyes. “Mike. Hurt.” 

He tries to smile at her reassuringly, but he can’t. He leans into her warmth and presses his face into her shoulder as he starts to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

Mike isn’t sure how long they stay like that, both of them kneeling in the snow, clinging to one another. He just knows that after awhile, his entire body is shivering and so is hers, and it’s an effort to keep his teeth from chattering. They need to get out of here, out of the cold snow and the night wind, away from the dead body that’s only twenty or so feet away. 

They need to figure out what they’re going to do. 

His tears have dried up, but now panic is starting to claw its way at his chest. “We need to get out of here,” he tells her, pulling away to look at her. 

Eleven stares back at him, dark eyes swirling with worry. “Hurt,” she whispers.

Mike’s teeth chatter involuntarily and he tries to smile. “I’ll be okay.” He’s not sure that’s true, because he’s in pain -- his head hurts, his ribs are aching, and the pain in his backside is -- unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He doesn’t want to think about it, and he doesn’t want her to think about it, because if she thinks about it, then she won’t forget what she saw and he desperately needs her to forget it. Because if she doesn’t, he can’t either. 

He looks over toward Troy’s body and then back at her, mind racing. He doesn’t know what to do. James had fled before Eleven had shown up, but he knew what was about to happen, knows that Mike was in the woods with Troy. Troy’s parents will surely file a missing person’s report within the next few hours -- maybe not until after school tomorrow if they’re _lucky_. (And when are they ever lucky?)

“Mike?” 

He meets her eyes, and he’s sure that she can tell he’s on the verge of freaking out. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits. 

She leans closer to him and then turns her head to look at Troy. “Deserved it.” 

He’s not inclined to argue, but that’s beside the point. There’s a body to deal with and he has no idea what to do about that. He just knows that neither of them can touch him. “We need to get out of here,” he says again, drawing in a breath that hurts to take. “Have you been -- staying in the woods all this time?” 

“Yes.” Eleven pauses. “Cabin.” 

“You found a cabin?” Mike wonders how far it is as she nods and shifts closer to him before rising to her feet. She holds her hand out wordlessly and he slides his into it, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as pain shoots through him. 

She slides her arm around him, pulling one of his arms around her shoulders and looks at him intently. “Okay?” 

“Okay,” he echoes. He tries not to lean on her too heavily considering the way she’d just used her powers and was probably weaker than usual herself. She seems to sense it because she doesn’t start walking yet. “Okay,” he says again with a slight nod. This time, she nods too, and they head away, farther into the woods, snow beginning to swirl around them. 

***

By the time they reach the little cabin, Mike’s so cold he can barely feel his fingers. The snow has picked up, coming down hard and fast, and he thinks about how much trouble he’s going to be in when he finally gets home. His house is definitely going to be Alcatraz for the next month. 

“Home,” El whispers, and it’s somehow not lost in the roar of the wind. 

His chest tightens at the thought of her being all the way out here, alone, but he’s glad at least, that she’s found a place to stay that has four walls and a roof. He lets her lead him inside. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to see, but it isn’t a nicely set up little home, complete with electricity and a TV, and in the corner of the room, a CB radio. 

He turns his head to stare at her with wide eyes.

She seems to understand his surprise and she smiles just a little. “Hopper,” she tells him and his eyes widen even more at that. 

“Hopper knows you’re here?” There’s a hint of disbelief in his voice. Hopper’s known she’s here and okay all this time? It’s been _months._

“Helping me,” she clarifies. 

The quick spark of anger he’d felt at the older man dissolves instantly at that admission. He swallows heavily, eyes feeling warm and blurry when he exhales. “Oh.” He’s glad someone has been helping her, even if it’s not him. 

“Mike.” 

He opens his eyes to look at her again, and a tear trickles down his cheek. There are tears in her eyes too, and he draws in a pained breath when she hugs him again. “I missed you so much,” he whispers. 

“Me too,” she whispers back. “Heard you.” 

His gaze darts to the radio in the corner and it’s all he can do not to start crying harder. “You never said anything.” 

“Wasn’t safe,” Eleven murmurs against his cheek. “Bad men.” 

Mike tightens his arms around her a fraction more, nodding. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He’d thought he’d seen her that night, outside his house, but he’d been in such a daze, exhaustion and stress had taken over and he’d half wondered if he’d hallucinated seeing her because he’d _wanted_ to see her. 

“Are you?” She pulls back to stare at him.

“I will be.” 

A frown tugs at her mouth, but before she can say anything else, there’s a rumble from a car engine outside the cabin and their eyes widen. Wordlessly, she grabs his hand and tugs at him. He follows willingly, into a small bedroom. She guides him to another door, pulling it open and looking at him intently. 

He glances at the closet, then meets her eyes and nods, sitting down on the floor and looking up at her until she closes the door. He presses himself up against the wall, shifting to try and get more comfortable but also stay as quiet as possible. Almost immediately aches and pains from every part of his body begin to make themselves known, as well as the realization that his clothes are still damp and he’s _freezing_. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore all of iit and listen to what’s going on in the other room, but he can’t really hear anything. 

He forces himself to take a few slow, shallow breaths to try and calm his rapidly beating heart and then the events of the night begin to replay in his head and he scrubs his hands over his face, willing away thoughts of Troy and James, and a dead body. 

Moments later the closet door opens and he looks up to see Eleven standing there once more, a finger to her lips. He nods and slowly rises to his feet, grimacing involuntarily. She reaches out and lays her hand on his arm, then takes his hand once more, fingers curling around his as she guides him to her bed. “Rest,” she whispers. “Hopper’s sleeping.” 

“He won’t check on you?” 

She smiles faintly. “Privacy.” 

Mike knows he should go, because he’s already going to be in so much trouble when he does get home. He’s also not sure he could make it back home right now, and riding his bike from the edge of the woods is definitely out of the question. He hesitates only a moment before slipping his shoes off and crawling slowly into the bed she’s pulled the covers back on. He just needs a couple hours of sleep and then he’ll go, before Hopper finds him and _actually_ murders him. 

Eleven crawls under the covers beside him, tugging the blankets up around both of them and shifting close to him so they’re face to face, her hand over his. 

“El?” His voice is barely audible. 

“Yeah?” 

He swallows heavily, tightening his fingers around hers just a little. “We can’t tell anyone what happened tonight. Okay?” 

She’s quiet for a moment. “Trouble?” 

He exhales shakily, nodding. “A lot of it,” he whispers. The main thing he’s grateful for tonight is that James was long gone before she’d shown up and there’s nothing that can tie her to the crime scene, because there’s no power on the planet that will drag the truth out of him. 

“Okay,” Eleven murmurs. 

He reaches out hesitantly, touching her curls. “Your hair’s really pretty,” he whispers. 

She smiles shyly at that and touches his hair, too. “Longer.” 

He’s not sure why that makes tears sting his eyes, but it does and he shifts a little closer to her, resting a hand on hers once more. 

“Sleep,” she tells him, and he lets his eyes drift shut, comforted by her presence and her hand wrapped around his. Within moments, he’s fallen asleep beside her.

***

Hopper yawns as he makes his way to the coffee pot early the next morning, pouring himself a cup and sipping it, glancing toward Eleven’s room. Unlike most teenagers, she’s usually up early -- before him most days. He wonders sometimes if one of her superpowers is not needing as much sleep as the majority of the populations. 

This morning, however, it’s quiet and she’s not up watching TV yet. A frown tugs at his mouth and he takes a long drink of his coffee and sets the mug down on the counter before making his way toward her door. He knocks softly and when she doesn’t answer, he reaches out and turns the knob, freezing in the doorway when he sees Eleven curled up asleep. 

With Mike Wheeler. 

He tries to tell himself he needs to stay calm. That he needs to take a deep breath and be rational. But knowing what’s at stake makes it impossible. 

“What the _hell_ is going on!?” he demands. 

They both jerk awake at the same time, and it doesn’t escape him how Mike scrambles out of the bed, looking confused for a moment, and then shocked, and then _terrified._

Good. 

“Calm,” Eleven tells him, not looking the least bit of any of those things, and that only serves to make him angrier. 

“Two minutes. Then we need to have a talk,” he growls, slamming the door shut and stomping toward the kitchen. There’s not enough coffee on the planet for this. 

***

“Shit. Shit shit _shit,_ ” Mike whispers, face drained of all color. 

Eleven moves to stand in front of him, reaching out and touching his face. “It’ll be okay, Mike.” 

She sounds _so_ sure, and he, on the other hand, is so far from being sure that anything is going to be okay that he feels like he’s going to fly right out of his own skin. Her hand against his cheek soothes some of his anxiety, though, and he forces himself to take a deep breath, nodding. She knows Hopper better than he does, obviously. 

She nods, too, reluctantly letting her hand drop away from his face. He misses the contact almost instantly, but he swallows heavily, watching as she turns to head toward the door. He follows, heart beating hard in his chest, the shock of Hopper barging in starting to wear off and a lot of aches and pains starting to fire up in his body. Wordlessly, Eleven reaches back and takes his hand in hers as they step out into the main room of the cabin. 

Hopper glares at them -- mostly at him -- from the kitchen area. “One of you better start talking.” 

Mike’s fingers tighten around hers a fraction. “It’s not her fault,” he starts. 

“Mike.” She looks at him and then turns to Hopper. “Went for a walk. Found Mike. Looking for me.” 

Hopper’s glare intensifies. “You’re not supposed to be going out at _all!_ Don’t you get how dangerous it is? Anyone could have seen you!” 

“Don’t yell at her!” Mike’s voice is sharp, loud as anger flares through him as he glares back at Hopper. “You can’t just keep a person locked up for months without expecting they’ll want some fresh air!” 

“You stay out of this!” Hopper shouts, taking a step toward the two teens. The lights flicker in the cabin. “And don’t you start that shit with me, Kid. I swear to _God._ ” 

“ _Stop,_ ” Eleven says simply, even as the lights return to normal. “I was bored, not stupid.” 

Mike’s eyebrows furrow at that and then he glares at Hopper again, assuming the man called her that at some point. “She’s _not_ stupid!” 

“Are you friggin’ kidding me right now?” Hopper mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sit down, both of you.” 

Eleven looks at Mike and then nods, gently tugging him toward the sofa. Hopper moves to stand in front of them, arms folded across his chest as they sit down. 

“You and I? We’re going to talk later,” he tells Eleven, raising his eyebrows. Then he turns his attention to Mike. “And you? You’re going to go home, or to school, and you’re not going to say a word to your friends or your sister or anyone you’ve ever met about her being out here. Are we clear?” 

Mike stares up at him. “You think I would ever do _anything_ intentionally that might put her in danger?” he asks in disbelief. 

“Kid -” 

“I’ve spent the last four months _looking_ for her, not knowing if she was safe, or alive, or in the Upside Down, and you had her here the _whole_ time!” 

Eleven squeezes his hand gently and he takes a slow, deep breath, noting that it doesn’t hurt as much to breathe now as it had last night. 

“I had her here _protecting_ her,” Hopper responds harshly. “Those people who had her before? Some of them are still here!” 

“No one knows,” El tells Hopper quietly. “Except Mike.” 

The chief presses his lips together, staring intently at Mike. Even as he utters his next words he knows it’s going to be a futile, uphill battle. “You need to get out of here, and don’t come back until I say it’s okay. Got it?” 

Eleven glares at him now, standing up. “ _No._ He visits.” 

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he responds. 

“You’re not going to keep her away from me anymore,” Mike tells him, rising to his feet, too, and it takes him a moment to notice how much the kid’s grown in the last few months. 

“You are absolutely _not_ coming back here,” he grits out. 

“What are you gonna do, Chief? _Shoot_ me?” The thirteen year old retorts. 

“Don’t _tempt_ me!” 

At that, a book flies off the shelf and smacks him in back. “Goddamn it, El --” 

“He. _Visits._ ” Another book flies across the room. His coffee cup teeters dangerously at the edge of the counter. 

Hopper scowls. “ _Fine._ But only if I pick him up and he hides in the truck where no one can see him and risk following us back here. Are we clear? Don’t you come out here again on foot, or your bike.” 

“Fine.” Mike is a little stunned that they won an argument against Hop. 

“And if anything happens to her, I’m holding _you_ personally responsible,” he warns. 

He won’t have to, Mike thinks. He’ll hold himself responsible. 

“You need to go now,” Hopper informs him. “Before it gets any later.” 

Eleven glowers at him and then turns to Mike, expression softening. She hugs him and he returns it, closing his eyes as tears start to burn against his eyelids. “Soon,” she whispers. 

“Soon,” he echoes. 

Hopper shakes his head, moving to pick up his coffee and take a long drink, eying the two teens warily. He watches them say their goodbyes -- neither of them loud enough for him to really hear them from where he’s standing, but he tilts his head momentarily when he sees the Wheeler kid wince, like he’s in pain. A frown tugs at his lips, but before he can ask, the kid’s out the door.  
His gaze settles on Eleven, and she stares at him for a moment, then turns on heel and heads into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. 

_Teenagers._


End file.
